Category Archives: Personal

I’m leaving this blog behind for a bit. There is a possibility that I may revisit it at some point later in life, but for now I a) don’t have the time to maintain its upkeep, and b) think that the majority of the content in this blog is linked to a particular…kinda ‘era’ in my life.

I think it would be perhaps insensitive and unfair to blog about my everyday life these days in the same place that I have been for the past year plus. And also, it’s sort of time to turn over a new page. Well, a virtual page…

I’m still updating my tumblr daily, so if you’re interested, feel free. I guess this is going to be my replacement ‘place to think’.

It is strange how things have turned out. I never imagined my life taking a turn down this path. Not once. But now that it’s happened and is, of course, still happening, I can honestly say that I’m truly appreciative of everything I’ve done in my life. Every choice I’ve ever made, every person I’ve spoken to, every place I’ve been, every memory I’ve made… These all collate to make me who I am.

People can say I’ve changed. Or they can say I haven’t. Or never did. It’s fine. Truth is, I don’t care too much for what people say. Only the people close enough to me to know me well enough are the people whose opinions and thoughts matter.

As it is, I’m content with where I am right now. I’m changing, but I’m not. I’m definitely learning. And hell, I’m happy.

I got three phone calls – the first about College House, the second from Anna about flights, and the third from “Anton from Westpac, Westgate”.

I spoke to our neighbour and found out how it is that our cat is so fat despite not eating anything at home. Yup, you guessed it – he dines out every night at his friend’s across the road.

I got an email reply from my grandpa, in which he said “So you are quickly learning to hold your drink!! That said; just remember it is the sensible young ladies who will benefit from such a lesson and will prosper throughout life! Sorry, I am beginning to lecture you and no doubt you will remember your Mother looking daggers at me for giving you beer to sample whilst down in Wales!!” This really made me smile for a bit.

I watched Friends.

My cat came back to sleep on my bed after I had put her outside for the night.

I made a necklace.

However, bad/sad:

My internet is deathly slow. It irritates me. I want to watch HIMYM and I caaaaan’t 😦

I feel really unprepared about returning to CH again. I also feel like somehow everyone else has bonded over these three weeks and I haven’t. I hope it’s not the case; that would suck.

My textbooks didn’t arrive. This means they’ll have to be sent down to me. I hope I get them in time.

Town tomorrow night has been cancelled. I could go with Auckland CH people but that’s hardly fair on Blake. So we’ll probably have a really cute night in. It just annoys me when plans fail.

I realised that next Friday will be my first birthday away from home. It’s strange how things are changing.

It was my last day at home again, for the second time in less than a month, only this time I really don’t when I’ll be back. I guess it turned out I didn’t know last time either though.

Saying goodbye to Dad was hard…again. Life is so cruel with these goodbyes.

I missed you, and I still miss you. Why don’t you txt me? I always have to do it first. Grr. Although that’s not really fair of me to say, sorry. I just miss you, and I’m annoyed at us only getting four days together when I’ve been killing time for three weeks. Friday night better be gooooooood.

Final night in my own bed…again. This song makes me sleepy in the most perfect way possible:

“He is the one who plays the piano
He is the one who wants to love
She is the one who touched his heart
He made too much of this, of course

I guess that’s all
They feel so small
He is the one who wants the crowd to disappear
He is the one who draws them near
He is asleep, deep and cynical
She stays awake to sing sonata.”

I don’t know how to celebrate the birthday of a blog. I mean, it’s not a person. I couldn’t have gone out and celebrated on the town because it was my blog’s birthday (although honestly, any excuse would have done…) I can’t make it a cake because my MacBook can’t eat it (although honestly, I could do with some myself…) I could do a re-cap and assessment of my first year as a blogger, but to be quite honest again…that’s just boring. I’ve seen youtube videos of people after their first year of vlogging where they thank all their subscribers and talk about how much they’ve matured and grown as a person due to their vlogging experiences, but a) I have very few subscribers (that I know of) because most people keep up-to-date via my facebook posts, and b) that sort of thing is overrated. It’s gone from being a personal, heart-felt ‘thank-you’ to an oh-dammit-I-guess-I-should-acknowledge-the-people-that-suffer-my-irregular-video-uploads-because-I’ve-been-here-for-a-year kinda thing.

Maybe just a little bit about this blog and why I’ve kept this thing up-and-running? OK, that’ll have to do 🙂

Looking back at my first post, it’s clear that my blog was born from the brain of a procrastinating teenager, desperate to find an excuse other than facebook to utilise as a time-killing tool. And who am I kidding, it still is exactly that. I guess when I first started writing posts I never really believed I’d actually keep up the blogging. I should have had far more important things to occupy my days with – such as EE, ToK essays, lit essays, CAS hours (wow, remember those?) – but by some miracle, all those dreaded assignments and presentations got done, I got decent grades, and through it all I never really had to compromise my blogging. Sure, there were days on end when reality knocked on the door and I had to catch-up on things (especially maths portfolio weeks, those were murder!), but I think what really fueled me on to maintain my blog posts was the need for an outlet of some kind.

After a crappy day at school, or an argument with my mum or something similar, I find that to prevent myself from going completely ape-shit at someone, I have to sort my thoughts out in my head first. The best way I came up with to do that was to write them down, and where better place to do that than on my blog. In this sense, my blog has become very much like my personal diary. Of course I daren’t reveal everything online here because there really is no telling who will read it, but as some people I learnt were surprised to read, I do keep it pretty personal (hence why every single post is categorised under such label).

And I don’t do this for anyone else really; I do it for me. I like the idea of being able to look back over years of posts – even now – and being able to remember certain days and events as they happened, rather than having to rely on a foggy memory or someone else’s biased viewpoint. I suppose this is a way of combatting my greatest fears too – that of forgetting, but also that of being forgotten. I hadn’t actually thought of this point until the second I typed those words a sentence ago, but thinking about it…it does make sense. By publishing my thoughts and opinions online, it is almost as though I’m creating some sort of legacy. Of course, I’m not planning on going anywhere any time soon (*touch wood*…dammit I hate talking about things like this so matter-of-factly), but should anything unexpected – or not so (i.e. when I’m 102) – happen, this will always exist. Well, at least until WordPress gets taken over by facebook…but let’s not go there..!

The point I’m making is that this blog is something tangible. It’s not words that have been said from person to person that can be changed and mis-interpreted by different generations of people; it’s words that have been written down and are in black and white for anyone to read. That’s what I like about writing – it’s solid evidence. It’s either there or it’s not. And hell, my blog is there alright. It’s here, and hopefully it’ll stay here for years or more to come 🙂

Cocoa my cat came at climbed on top of me and my MacBook half-way through writing this. As he obviously wanted to be a part of it, so it’s only right he should get a bit of recognition here 🙂

But I make no apologies. I’m bored and blogging somewhat relieves that boredom. Shurrup.

So, it’s only now that I’m finding myself in my bedroom without my desk that I’m realising how essential a desk is in a bedroom.

My room up North is too small for one. But I need my desk. Ironically, when I was at school – particularly that last year of school – I used to hate the thought of having to sit down at my desk and ‘do work’. I used to think of work as a chore (hell, I still will at uni no doubt), hence why I used to do a lot of my homework sitting cross-legged on my bed, like how I am sitting now.

But I think that’s the problem – we associate different things with different places. I used to think desk = schoolwork, therefore I preferred to steer clear of my desk. However, now it has become bed = the place where I sit all day chatting online/tumblring/blogging/youtubing, and because of this I am craving some other creative space. Somewhere to make things with glue and patterned paper and glitter, somewhere to write, somewhere to organise myself…

In this respect, I really want to get back down to my room at CH and sort out my books and things on that huuuuuuuge desk of mine. Of course there are many other reasons that I want to return too – the people, the parties, the foooood, the getting-away-from-here part of it all… 🙂 Yeah, I’ve fully convinced myself. Adelaide was never an option for me, and I don’t really see the point in doing a half-year transfer to Auckland. In my opinion, it’s probably best to get back down to Chch asap so that some form of normality can begin to take shape. My grades will otherwise likely be screwed, if not already after that first psych lecture…

In other news, it’s raining. A lot. It’s also my birthday soon. But sooner than that, I get to see you again on Weds 😀 Happyhappyhappy times! Although maybe not as happy as your time last night, heeyyyyyy? 😛 I kid! I just with I could’ve been there to witness it so I could effectively use it against you when next you accuse me of murdering my liver, hahaha.

I’m feeling Arctic Monkeys-ish:

PS. I wish I was a cat. They have the easiest, most perfect lives. And when I think of cats I think of Alex Boyd and NOW I HAVE THAT GODDAMNED CATSUIT IMAGE THING IN MY HEAD. GODDAMNIT GO AWAAAAAAAAAY. Grr. It’s just cruel that that even exists (no offense intended).

Inspiration is not happening, however I feel the need to post something. I just stumbled upon (literally) this beautiful post, written by Ryan O’Connell and found here, so am taking the opportunity to re-post this piece of writing here.

Oh, before I start, you all need to know that I just successfully ended the life of one of the largest bitching mozzies you have ever seen. It had been being all ninja and flying around my ceiling for about two hours before it made the mistake of coming within slapping distance of my hands. At least now, I can sleep in peace 🙂

Anyway, on with the writing…

“You can stop taking quizzes in Cosmo. Here’s what love really is.

Love is still wanting to hold someone after you climax. After the initial euphoria from the orgasm wears off, you’re replaced with a sense of calm rather than a panic. You don’t want to search for your clothes, scramble to find your keys and figure out the best way to tell them, “See ya later forever!” You’re fine with chilling out in bed with the person and maybe ordering pad thai later.

Love is unattractive. It can expose our worst traits: Jealousy, irrational fears, heated anger; the gang’s all here! While it can bring out compassion and tenderness, it can also make you behave like the ugliest version of yourself. That can be okay for a little while, but love with real longevity should be like a xanax rather than an adderall.

Love is not afraid to be schmaltzy. There’s a reason why the most popular love songs are so lyrically simple. You can drown it in metaphors all you want but love usually boils down to, “You make me so happy. I want to hold your hand. I just want u 2 be mine 4ever!” You can be a 50-year-old linguistics professor at Columbia University and still find something to relate to in a Mariah Carey ballad if you’re in love because the feelings are so universal. It’s humbling, isn’t it? No matter who you are or what your background is, love can reduce you to Mariah Carey mush.

Love is an all-consuming drug. It gives us these natural highs we’ve only read about in books or heard in songs. It’s addictive. It’s what keeps us going to bars, drinking glasses of wine, going to that stupid house party in Bushwick; it’s all for the possibility of finding love. In the wrong hands, love can be dangerous and scary. If someone lacks a healthy foundation, love can kill. All of these crimes you read about in the newspapers are usually linked to passionate love. “I did it because I loved them just…too much.”

Love is not what our parents had. In high school, you never wanted to think about your mother and father having once slept with people in the backseat of cars and feeling warm and happy. That would make it feel less special and young. It would make love have less to do with you when, EXCUSE ME, it has EVERYTHING to do with you.

Love is getting drunk with your significant other at a party and taking a cab home with your bodies intertwined. You feel safest in these moments, the most secure. Entering a social gathering with someone who loves you is the biggest security blanket. People leave the party as a parade of droopy expressions and sad cocktail dresses. But not you. “Sorry guys, I’m in love! I’m taking a car!”

Love is fucking stupid. Love is fucking smart. Love is about betraying yourself, of compromising your ideals for someone else’s approval. That’s actually the bad kind of love, but I guess it all blurs together when you’re young or when you’re old or when you don’t love yourself.

Love is your significant other telling you about their favorite album and then making a point to fall in love with it on your own. Love is wondering why your better half loves certain things. You think you can find remnants of them in their favorite films, books and songs, but you usually can’t.

Love is finding yourself feeling protective over someone else’s well-being Love is being incensed with rage when someone or something has done your lover wrong.

Love is wanting your partner to cum. And if they can’t, just say, “That’s okay. I’m enjoying this.” It might be bullshit, but they’ll be orgasming in the next five minutes. Trust me.

Love isn’t always marriage. Marriage is spending $60,000 so everyone can know that someone loves you. You know what’s certainly not love? Debt. In some cases, love can be divorce.

Love is a back massage, a mindfuck, a hard cock, a pair of perfect breasts, of feeling unashamed about the cellulite on your body. Love is someone giving a shit about you enough to argue. Love is not passive. Love is “Don’t fucking touch me right now.” Love is “Who the FUCK were you talking to?” Love is sometimes hating yourself for a second. Love is hate. Period. Indifference is the real killer of love and the true antithesis.

When love leaves you, you should be lying on your bathroom floor with no resolve. You’re smoking cigarettes in the bathtub and crying about everything bad that’s ever happened.

Love is someone seeing the beauty in you and wanting to bask in it every day all day. Love is not guaranteed. We are not owed love. That’s why when we get it, we know how lucky we are and hold on to it for dear life.”

My first week of living away from home went amazingly. Parties, outings, new friends, Homage, the best food…I already felt at home. So waking up on the morning of Tuesday, 22nd February, I really had no reason to believe my happy little bubble of life I was already accustomed to should be about to change. I even made it to breakfast that morning amidst my silly Monday night hangover, and did my first wash, and printed out my notes for that day’s lectures. Organisation on the second day of lectures? I know, what?

I sat through Anna’s sociology lecture with her for an hour at 11am as way of returning her act of kindness the previous day where she had endured my first geography lecture with me. And then at 12pm, we had our second psychology lecture. I was lost from the start, and when Anna said it was more like IB biology than psych, my mind – I’m ashamed to say – switched off of its own accord. Needless to say, the lecture theatre breathed an audible sigh of relief when our lecturer finished 7 minutes early. With our brains already turned to mush, Anna and I decided to treat ourselves to lunch at one of the on-campus cafés.

It was here that the happy hubbub of the lunch-hour took a drastic change for the worse. I can’t recall everything completely clearly, but I remember as I was standing in front of the curry counter waiting for Anna to pay, the floor beneath my feet began to move. To start with it felt like the kind of movement you’d feel walking on creaky floorboards in an old house, but soon (it must have only been seconds) we were having trouble standing upright. Some instinct of mine grabbed Anna’s arm and screamed to get down. We crouched together half-under a tiny table. I remember watching the 10 or so other people in the café get under their tables, everyone’s eyes wide with fear, the heavy lights swinging from side-to-side above our heads, the curry sloshing over the counter, the screams from outside… And then, in what was apparently 20 seconds (I lost all track of time), it was over. The power had gone out, but daylight meant there was enough light to see the destruction the earthquake had caused even inside this tiny building where we were. Like Anna, I distinctly recall the café’s owner observing the damage to his business and shaking his head in despair and also a sort of resignation as if to say “Here we go again.”

The quickness with which the earthquake happened meant I still didn’t really know what I had just experienced. One of the girls in the café said to Anna and I as we left, “That was probably about a 5. Welcome to Christchurch guys.” Even she, who clearly lived there, had no idea of the scale of the damage. Our first instinct was to leave, and it is this moment that I keep flashing back to – walking across the usually impossible-to-cross Ilam Road with cars barely moving, and looking behind me to see a huge swarm of students following us and all doing exactly the same thing – phoning their loved ones. By this point I had already txt my parents and Blake, but the congestion and damage to the phone-lines meant I had no idea whether they had got my messages or not.

As I followed Anna down the pathway to her halls of residence (they were the closest to us), the first aftershock hit. Again, the power of it made it nearly impossible to stand upright and the movement of the trees and windows around us made me realise just how much damage the earthquake could have caused. While waiting with Anna at R&R (her halls), I managed miraculously to get a call through to Blake. Amazingly, he was also fine. Getting a txt minutes later from a friend back in Auckland telling me the CBD looked ‘like a bomb had hit it’, I began to appreciate the full-scale of our lucky escapes.

I decided to run back to College House after making sure Anna was OK at R&R, and returned to find everyone huddled on the grass outside the tennis courts, each already sharing their own stories. After waiting for a while in the rain and the cold, the bursar informed us of the damage. There was a damaged stairwell on one of the houses which was inaccessible, as well as a split concrete beam above the dining hall and visible damage on the lawn. He told us our rooms were “a mess, but we’re not sure if that is due to the quake or not. Either way, go and tidy up a bit?” Even this small amount of humour was more than welcome to lighten the mood.

On my way up to my room, Dad managed to get a call through to me. I reassured them that I was OK, but as I opened my bedroom door I couldn’t help but to burst into tears. My photo frames were all over the floor (luckily only one of them smashed), and my jewellery and phone and lamp had been rudely thrown all over the place. I realise that the damage to my room is minute compared to what others have suffered, but the fact that all my belongings which I’d left neatly that morning had been broken and thrown everywhere by some unpredictable force of nature was completely horrible to see. As I was tidying up my things, placing everything on lower shelves, the second aftershock hit. This one was by far the most terrifying. Being on the third floor of the building, the movement was unbearable. I can’t effectively describe the sensation of have a ‘strong’ three-story building swaying beneath you. I saw my lamp and phone fall to the floor again (I don’t know how), and the moment the swaying stopped I ran outside onto the grass with everyone else.

Huddled in blankets and listening to someone’s battery radio, we began to gauge an understanding of the scale of this earthquake. In the hours following when the power eventually came back on, we were also able to watch the news and visually see the devastation of Christchurch CBD. You only had to glance around the faces in the common room to see that we were united in our utter disbelief and shock at the events of the afternoon.

Being unable to access my room because it was on top floor, we were all told to have sleepovers in bottom-floor rooms. This was pretty fun despite the circumstances. The tutors came in just before we went to bed to tell us of the drill in case of an emergency during the night. Talking about flushing toilets (we were having to conserve and boil water), one of them said, “It’s been generally agreed that ‘if it’s yellow let it mellow, but if it’s brown flush it down.'” And then the other tutor piped up, “But if it’s a big one, evacuate.” Everyone cracked up. She was clearly referring to a big aftershock, but yeah…I don’t need to explain where all our minds were at…

After a night of intermittent sleep and 14+ aftershocks, I got to briefly see Blake (and Nick) before starting on the long road-trip home to Auckland. I cannot thank Anna and her parents enough for getting me out of there. If I had had to stay another night or two to wait for flights out of Christchurch, I don’t think I’d have been the happiest of people. It was scary enough for one night, let alone continuing aftershocks still days afterwards. The 10+ hour journey from Christchurch to Picton to Wellington to Auckland to Blake’s was made so much better by Anna being there with me the whole time. I’d hate to imagine how I would have coped alone, so Anna, I am forever thankful 🙂 Also, thanks to Blake and fam for letting me stay for a few days before returning back up North, as well as the boys for our cute little dinner on Friday – it was fantastic to see you all so soon 🙂

And now I’m back home, pondering life. The university’s updates say that 14th March is the earliest re-start date they’re looking at, so I don’t know what my plan is until then. I’m bored here already (although it was good to see my family again), and I feel like I am definitely ready to move out of home – it’s just a question of when and where. I miss Christchurch already, but I can’t help but remind myself that returning to College House and uni down there won’t ever be quite the same as the week I experienced. It is so cruel how people’s lives can be ripped apart so brutally and suddenly. And in that respect, I count myself extremely lucky. I’ve been watching and reading the news every day and my thoughts are constantly with Cantabrians who are suffering from this horrendous act of nature. I know of people who have lost people, and I can only begin to imagine the pain and trauma that they must be experiencing. However, through this event we become stronger together. Nothing I write here could ever compare to the words of PM John Key, Mayor Bob Parker, or Supt. Dave Cliff – everything these three men have said over the past 6 days has been full of respect, encouragement, power and emotion, all at exactly the same time. It’s times like these that we can learn to see ourselves as lucky, even the most unlucky of us. We have support from all over the world – from Christchurch’s own Student Volunteer Army, to rescue teams from the UK, the USA and China. Everyone’s heart goes out to everyone else. We are all thinking of you Christchurch.

This is the first song I remember hearing post-quake (albeit on Friday afternoon in Blake’s car on the radio). But the lyrics ring true.

It’s 12:56am. I’m in my room alone. I don’t know where my BFF is because she was talking to some cute guy which obvs I couldn’t do because I am all redlightredlightredlight. But that’s OK because I love my Blakie 🙂 I just need to see him soon. Like, real soon.

So yeah, it’s allg. Mum cried when she said goodbye which was weird. What’s also weird is trying to imagine studying at this desk of mine. It’s too unfamiliar and I have too great a view (in daylight) of guys playing frisbee and stuff on the grass. Yeeeeeeeah. Hahaha, but yesh, I’m gonna go to bed. I have to have a tour of the campus tomorrow and stuffs which’ll be gooooood.

Also, the food is fantastic. I’ll probably be obese when you next see me so just shut up and don’t be mean if I am. Hahaha. Kool kids though, seriously. Nowhere near as scary as I thought it would be. I keep wanting to do capital ‘i’s. Strange. Also, everything’s been really loud so I can’t really even hear myself typing. But that’s OK because I’m going to bed now. I love you all.

Ps. Song of the moment and album I need to buy (Sigh No More):

Pps. Internet is well expensive. I paid like $20 for 2gb or something. Idk. But this is a rare/infrequent thing I’m giving you here. Enjoy. Blahblah, BED! Then breakfast in like 6/7hours. Omnom 😀